Taste the Rainbow
by prone2dementia
Summary: No pairings. To avoid recognition from K-Unit, Alex acts flamboyantly gay. Tom not-so-reluctantly plays along, but things don't go as planned.


_A belated birthday fic for JustAnotherParallelDimension._

Taste the Rainbow

After several years of solid friendship, Tom Harris liked to think that he knew his best friend pretty well. For one, he knew that Alex refrained from swearing—

"Oh, shittyshit_shit! _What the fuck am I supposed to do, Tom?"

—unless the occasion truly called for it.

"About what?"

For another, he knew that their roles seemed to have reversed. Instead of being the cool and unruffled one, Alex was panicking like a druggie on a bad acid trip. Idly, Tom wondered if he should duck and cover. If Super Spy Alex was suddenly seized by hysterics, then surely the end of the world was on the horizon.

"Have you even been listening to me?"

"Not particularly." That was the truth; until now, Tom had been vastly more interested in his milkshake than in his friend's mêlée. "Did you have something important to say?"

"I always have something important to say." With his head craned away from Tom, Alex's muttered words were almost too quiet to be heard.

Gazing to the entrance of the food court, Tom followed the direction in which Alex was sending covert glances. Under the fluorescent lights, a teenage couple was swapping spit, too enraptured by each other to notice the rest of the world. A few paces away, a harried mother seemed to be exasperatedly explaining something to her little, pig-tailed daughter. Other than them, the only people occupying the space near the entrance were three men.

Three men who happened to be shooting odd looks at the two teenage boys. Though the trio did not appear similar—one was blond, one was red-haired, and one was brunet—they all possessed the same air of danger. Their casual clothing did nothing to hide their sculpted muscles.

"Wanna hear a joke?" Tom said under his breath.

Leveling him with an incredulous look, Alex did not respond.

Tom continued anyways, "A blond, a redhead, and a brunet walked into a food court—"

"Or rather, dumb, dumber, and dumbest," the MI6 operative argued instinctively. "Oh, hell. They're heading this way."

Indeed, the three men were weaving their way through the various tables and toward them.

"And I'm assuming _they _aren't people you'd like to meet?"

Poised to explain, Alex opened his mouth, only to be cut off by a surprised voice from behind him:

"_Cub?"_

A plan was rapidly forming in Alex's mind—Tom could tell by the way his friend's eyebrows furrowed _just so_. For some reason, the shorter boy had the feeling that somebody would be in for a nasty surprise very soon.

In a pitch higher than normal, the brown-eyed teen enunciated, "I'm _so _sorry, but do I _know _you?"

Suddenly, Alex Rider had taken on a whole different persona. No longer was he a football playing, karate kicking teenage spy, but a fashion-obsessed, drama-queen-esque fairy. Or so it seemed to Tom. Perhaps it was the subtle shift in posture or the abrupt change in voice rhythm that caused Alex to exude the air of a queer. But either way, to a passing individual, he would appear undeniably bent.

It took only a moment for Tom to blink away his horror. Then he decided to play along.

However, the three men seemed to be taking much longer to overcome their shock.

"Uhm," coughed the redhead.

"But, _ohmygawd, _Cub is such a _cute _name." By this time, Alex had scooted so close to Tom that he was practically sitting on the dark-haired boy's lap. Wide eyes shining genuinely, the blond boy asked Tom, "Don't you agree, baby?"

Taking the initiative, Tom snaked an arm around Alex's waist. "Of course, darling. Maybe I should start calling you that from now on."

More unabashed staring from the three adults. The redhead seemed to have swallowed his tongue down the wrong pipe, and was now trying not to choke.

"S-sorry, we just thought you were somebody else," apologized the blond man.

"Aww, no need to apologize! It happens to everyone!" Then Alex jolted, looking down. "Oh, Jackie just texted me."

As Tom watched Alex retrieve his mobile, he couldn't tell if his companion was faking or not. Before leaving them to their own devices, Jack had instructed that she would text them when she was done with Christmas shopping. Nodding their acknowledgment, the two boys had wandered off and—being the teenage boys that they were—decided to check out the food court.

"She wants us to meet her now. C'mon, babe." Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Alex wrapped his other hand in Tom's.

"Mmkay, _Cub_."

In response to the "endearment", Alex squeezed the other boy's fingers hard enough to bruise. A momentary glint in his eyes warned Tom never to call him that again.

They stood in unison.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, I suppose," Alex said airily.

"Uhm," the redhead repeated once more.

Tom noted that the dark-haired man had not spoken once during the whole exchange. He was short, with a square build and an unsettling stare. Turning to the exit, Tom swung Alex's hand lightly as they walked away. On their way out of the food court, he tossed away his empty milkshake container. Tom allowed himself to be pulled along by Alex as they mingled with the crowds of shoppers. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed a group of girls giggling and sending them ganders.

"—_They're so hot—"_

"—_Aren't they the cutest couple ever?—"_

Catching strains of their conversation, Tom barely refrained from turning and winking at them.

When they rounded the corner, Alex immediately dropped Tom's hand as if it were contaminated by Swine Flu.

"Wow, getting rid of me so fast? I'm hurt."

Alex scowled, ignoring the comment.

"What the hell are they doing here?" he groused through gritted teeth, almost to himself.

Blinking, Tom realized that Alex had been speaking with an American accent during the whole conversation with the three men. So fluent was the artifice that Tom had not even noticed until Alex reverted back to British.

"Perhaps they're here to shop. Y'know, like what _normal_ people do in _shopping_ centers?" suggested Tom. "By the way, nice American. I didn't even realize 'til you switched back."

"...Thanks?" Alex then half-heartedly argued, "Those three guys aren't _normal_."

"Oh? Well, you haven't told me their identities yet. Are they more of your MI6 colleagues? Or are they some bad guys whose evil plan to take over the world was ruined by you, and are now out to get your blood?"

"Don't say that so loudly. People will look at me funny."

They had resumed walking, but at a slower pace. At regular intervals, Alex glanced uneasily about him, as if searching for the cause of his discomfort. When Tom attempted to follow his gaze, however, he spotted nothing more conspicuous than smooth store windows, unassuming consumers, and holiday décor. Perhaps his friend _was_ paranoid.

Mischief fox-trotting in his blue eyes, Tom said, "I hate to break this to you, but people _already_ look at you funny."

"Of course. I hang out with you. Why wouldn't they?" Alex gave a long-suffering sigh.

Mimicking a girl, Tom batted his lashes. "Ya know ya love me, _Cub_."

"...Call me that again," the spy threatened in a low, calm voice, "and I'll introduce your head to the wall."

"Ooh-la-la," crooned the other teen, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. "You're into that kinky stuff."

"On second thought, perhaps _I_ should repeatedly bang my head against the wall."

"Don't do _that_ now. You don't have enough brain cells to begin with!" Suddenly on the receiving end of a full-force glare from Alex, Tom stepped back. "Um... So! You still haven't told me who those guys are!"

"You're changing the subject," Alex complained, just a tad sulkily. "They were the SAS unit that I had to train with before...you know."

"Why are you so desperate to avoid them? And I thought the unit was _four_ men, not three..."

For a moment, Alex closed his eyes. Something akin to pain played across his brows.

"MI6 hasn't contacted me for almost a year now. I don't want any more reminders from the past."

Discomforted by the unexpected guilt that whelmed in response to causing his friend's distress, Tom opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could though, Alex continued, "I don't know where the fourth member of their unit is. Last time I saw him, he got shot by my _godfather_." Irreverence twisted the word _godfather_. "Anyways, I think he's working for MI6 now—"

A voice interrupted him. "_He's working for MI6?_"

Calmer than the situation warranted him to be, Alex turned to reply. "You were following me, presumably for the whole time?"

Although his words were phrased like a question, they seemed more like a statement. K-Unit, who had come out of hiding, found themselves shifting awkwardly.

"...Uhm."

"You seem to say that a lot, Eagle," Alex pointed out to the redhead. "And you don't need to answer me. I wasn't asking a question. I _knew_ someone was following me."

Now, Alex's previously paranoid behavior made sense to Tom. The dark-haired youth made a vow never to doubt his friend's instincts again.

"Because noticing things like that means the difference between life and death." Finally, the dark-haired solider had spoken. His voice was vaguely accented. "You may not work for MI6 anymore, but you still think like a spy."

Alex shrugged, his face unreadable. "Much as I'd like to be normal, Wolf, it's not something I can turn off."

"Yeah, but you're starting to slip." The blond man displayed the beginnings of a smile. "Wolf here could tell that something was _off_ about your performance."

"Though that might be just because his gaydar is incredible." It seemed that the redhead—Eagle—had finally regained his powers of speech. "His brother is gay," he tacked on as an explanation. "I, however, was fully convinced that we had stumbled onto a Cub look alike."

"Me too. Your acting's remarkable," admitted the Scottish-sounding man. "But then Wolf told us to follow you, and what could we do but obey? We overheard an interesting conversation, though, I'll admit... They never did tell us what happened to you and Fox."

"Hmm..." A thoughtful expression crossed Eagle's face. "Do you happen to have Fox's contact information?"

"And why would you want that?" queried Alex.

"We haven't heard from him since he left the SAS. I'm sure he'd have a lot of interesting stories to recount, seeing as he seems to come in contact with a lot of interesting types: murderous godfathers, MI6, teenage spies..." Eagle winked.

Not amused, Alex said, "I'm not sure I'm allowed to reveal his information."

"Following the rules like a good boy now?" Wolf asked, hints of teasing in his tone.

"Of course," deadpanned the spy. "After all, Santa Claus is coming to town."

Tom couldn't hold back a snort. The sound reminded the soldiers of his presence.

"If you're so keen on following the rules, how come your friend here seems to know everything about you?" Snake was referring to Tom.

Dispassionately, Alex asserted, "Even if Tom told my secrets, no one would believe him—"

Tom nodded smugly.

"—because he's a compulsive liar."

Realization of what Alex had just said dawned upon the shorter boy. "Hey! That's a lie!"

K-Unit was looking back and forth between the two, not sure if they were allowed to laugh. Alex wasn't trying very hard to swallow his smirk.

Then, a new voice drew their attentions away.

"Alex? Tom?" called an attractive female in her late twenties, who was making her way towards them. "There you are. Are you ready to leave now?"

"Uh...can you wait for a moment, Jack?" Alex quickly turned to the SAS members. "Give me something to write on."

Reigning in the question that threatened to slip, Snake salvaged a stubby pencil and a piece of crinkled paper from his pockets. Then he passed both to the boy. Alex wasted no time, deftly unfolding the grimy paper. It turned out to be a receipt, and Alex tried not to smirk when he caught sight of the name. Hastily, he scribbled out a message and passed both writing utensils back to Snake.

"Well, I have to leave now. Guess I might see you guys around. Merry Christmas."

The three members of K-Unit reciprocated the well wishing and watched as Alex walked away with his guardian and his friend. When they were out of sight, Snake looked down at the receipt that Alex had written on. He paled.

Seeing the reaction, the other two men snatched the paper away and read it in unison. At the top, several digits were jotted down. Beneath were the following words:

_That's Fox's number, in case you haven't figured out. Happy Holidays._

_(p.s. Your parents named you Harry Potter? No wonder you were so eager to join the SAS and get a codename. By the way, Voldemort RULES.)_

* * *

Thanks to Crowlows19 for betaing, and for helping me with the ending. And thank you for reading.


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